


He Called Me Lacey

by Eureka234



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Bad Jokes, Blushing, Challenge Response, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dirty Jokes, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Dwarf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, First Dates, First Love, Fluff, Fun, Funny, Holding Hands, Humor, Light-Hearted, Love, Nervousness, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Prompt Fic, Relationship(s), Romance, Sera Being Sera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5960419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eureka234/pseuds/Eureka234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if Scout Harding had not been too busy to go out for drinks with the Inquisitor in Skyhold. A one shot written in response to the Feb minor character challenge of the Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers Group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Called Me Lacey

_Author's Notes:_ This was written in a few hours, but I hope you enjoy it. This is my first time writing something from a prompt, it was totally worth it. I had a lot of fun.

* * *

_Herald's rest is an appropriate name,_ Harding thought, strolling through the doors of Skyhold's best and only tavern. She had weaved through the crowd a great many number of times, but she had never been in such a good mood. No matter what, the tavern had a particular quality to improve her mood. That's why she visited so often. The cheerful bustle of chatter and music balanced her emotions like rearranging a pile of books – no matter if she was tired or overly stimulated, the combination of the warm lights, friendly staff and heartfelt tunes would level her mind just enough to find contentment. It was multi purpose. If Harding needed to work she could, and if she required soothing, the dwarf would find it.

The floors speckled with the dirt of hard work reminded her of home, there was always a comfort in that.

Not today.

Sometimes she had to be careful that the Iron Bull's buddies didn't call her over for a drinking game. They took their liquor a little too seriously for her liking - but for once she wouldn't have minded if they did. As she caught eyes with Krem across the room, her usual polite wave burst with enthusiasm. He was the first one to notice something was different, as his eyes widened ever so slightly. The man even chuckled, but a wave of laughter from a nearby table drowned out the sound.

Harding wasn't sure who she wanted to talk to today.

The choice was made for her when she placed her order for the usual at the bar – beer.

"What's happened, Lace?" Cabot asked, a smile barely visible beneath his dark beard. "Did you see something interesting down in The Emprise de Lion?"

Not having realized she was smiling so much, Harding tried to soften the expression, but she must be twisting her face into something terrifying.

"There was so much snow I was frightened I'd have to be lifted out by my armpits," she answered, keeping an eye on the glass that would be hers. "That wasn't all. Earlier…. uhh…."

The brunet went quiet. She hadn't thought ahead this far. It was truly special that the Inquisitor had agreed to meet her here _tomorrow_ – wow, twenty four hours away! - But how could she explain this to everyone else without sounding like she was head over heels?

 _I guess I am more helpless than others when it comes to that sort of thing,_ Harding thought.

Before there was any more questions, she stepped away from the counter, cold drink in hand. Her hand was sweaty. Where did she want to sit?

The scout wasn't against anyone finding out about… could she call it a date? Nooo….

Reluctantly, she sat at a table near one of the windows on the ground floor, having a clear view of the grass outside. It was still light out, although nearly time for sunset. The few Orleasians that were with the Inquisition regularly sat near here, and generally people didn't volunteer to get in their way. It was a safe bet. Harding even spotted the human Inquisitor speaking to Cassandra, pacing to the War Room, probably.

Somehow Maxwell had gotten even dreamier.

Harding smiled. It would be so wonderful to lace her fingers through his delicate chestnut hair. The waves were something she'd always wanted to do with hers, but gave up a long time ago. It was a forlorn fantasy to twirl one of those strands into a ringlet with her fingers. And his stubble….

Harding hid her face with a hand, pretending to shade herself from the sun. If anybody figured out she was thinking about touching his head… or maybe his face... Or maybe his hands….

"I saw you!" shouted the unmistakable shrillness of Sera.

Harding craned her neck to see. That noise meant trouble was coming. The elf hadn't moved from her the above floor judging by the noise above her head. It was impossible to see anything though.

Not for long.

The was a flurry of giggles and the dwarf saw Sera pacing down the steps and hurrying toward her. It was amazing. Her heightened energy made customers jump aside like a storm rolling in.

"Lemme through! Gosh, you people. Just so stupid! Move!"

Harding drank a large gulp of her beer, the refreshing coolness not calming her. The blonde couldn't be hurrying over to talk to _her_? Sera and Harding rarely interacted. Harding found her too intense, and Sera thought Harding was too boring, yet, if the elf had suddenly found a reason to approach the scout…

"I saw you, Lacey!" Sera sat down next to Harding and peered into her eyes, "Chatting away, guess what I heard? Lacey wants to do some yoghurt potting with the Inquisitor! Oooohh!"

"I…uhhh…" Both exhausted and feeling demoralized, Harding let her arms fall onto the table, narrowly missing her drink. Only the Inquisitor had called her 'Lacey', and only that _one_ time. If Sera knew... she wasn't making it up. Never mind what 'yoghurt potting' meant.

"Were you spying on me?"

"I spy on everyone! That's what I'm good at!" Sera appeared extremely proud of herself, "so when you gonna pull him? He's meeting you here, isn't he?"  
The scout tried to avoid Sera's eye, "I'd really prefer it if we could spend time here together without you…" she pondered the right word, "inspiring anything unusual out of me."

"Wreck it? Never!" the elf chuckled, but Harding didn't trust her. "If you're going to get frisky with that minger, I'll help you. Trust me. I'm good at it."

Shifting uncomfortably, Harding sipped at her beer, wishing she had more. Frisky was too strong a word. "I don't know if I want anybody's help. We'll just… be having playful conversation."

"Talking, yeah right." Sera gave in a huffy sniff as though the air had suddenly turned salty. "Promise I'll be nice. I just wanna listen in and give some pointers. You want your date to be romantic, right? Mushy n all that?"

"Yes?" Harding replied, not sure whether she wanted Sera to help, but at least the elf had guessed correctly. "How… I mean… I haven't been more than friends with many guys."

"Neither have I, but you know what?" Sera lowered her voice, "I don't think it matters. He's a bit gumby. I don't think he'd know what to do either. I know! I'll help both of you!"

The scout paused. Sera… well, she had plenty of energy. She'd either make the date a disaster or interesting, and the last thing Harding wanted to do was come across as boring.

"If I was interested, somehow, in what you have to say, how embarrassing would it be? Could you maybe give me a hint?" Harding pressed, "I don't want you to make me do something I'll feel stupid about."

"I'll pass you some notes, Lacey," Sera was incredibly confident, like she'd figured it all out. "Hide somewhere. It'll be fun."

"Are you talking about under the table?" the brunet asked.

Sera cackled evilly, "Maybe! I like tables. Oooh! You know what? I could hide under your dress too. Wouldn't that be funny?"

By the pause in conversation from the elf's giggling, Harding thought Sera found the idea much more amusing than she did.

"I don't even have a nice dress." Harding said sadly, "I only have one or two, and I left them in Fereldan."

"Good, you're not into Oreleasian rubbish," Sera waved a hand, "I can lend you one of mine, do you think it would fit? You've got more muscle than me." Harding cringed as Sera poked at her biceps and shoulders. "Does that mean you'll let me sit in? If you say no I'll probably just write something foul on the ceiling – ahaha!"

The dwarf tried to smile but felt like she had been forced into a jacket too tight for her. "I'll agree if you're nice, and if your ideas are actually romantic."

"Let's start with the dress then!" Sera said, and she eagerly pulled on Harding's arm. "Come on. I'll even pick out a flower from my window sill to put in your hair."

Harding thought there was a reason the tavern was called, "Herald's Rest' and not 'Herald's Crazy Party', but the blonde - if the dwarf was going to guess - strongly disagreed.

* * *

The night went longer than anticipated, and it was lucky they organized this now because Harding was expected to travel to the Hinterlands for some of the next day. Sera had been right that the only dress she had (and granted, didn't wear much) didn't fit Harding, and so the elf went down to the kitchens to ask if anybody had a spare dress. While this was embarrassing, the dwarf was grateful for the help. She never would have had enough courage to ask.

 _This was not a good idea,_ she told herself, but when Sera did something nice her opinion would turn the other way. So long as Maxwell likes it, she concluded.

* * *

The evening the couple were due to meet at the tavern, Sera and Harding waited outside as the lanterns were lit. It was refreshingly cool out.

Harding tries to hide her face so no one recognizes it's _her_ in the dress.

"Don't make that face, you look magic!" Sera encouraged her, quill and notes of paper in one of her large pockets.

The outfit was flattering, so it was a lucky pick for Harding. It was simple enough to suit her without looking too plain. The Yale blue fabric went down to her knees, with the sleeves ending a number of inches before her wrists. The top quarter that gently hoisted her breasts was a slightly darker blue, with a chocolate plaited band around the waist to separate the two parts. It was cut high, barely exposing her cleavage, which Harding liked. Barely ten minutes ago Sera had pulled her hair out from its band and given it a rough comb. The thread patterns of stars and sparkles around the bottom of the dress helped to match her freckles. The flower from the window sill idea had been a miss.

The dwarf fakes a smile. "Nobody has seen me wearing a dress in Skyhold, so I'm not used to the attention."

"Whatever," Sera dismissed the comment, "the only attention you'll be getting is from your Inquisitor – if he can recognize you that is. How damn stupid would that make him anyway? Blah, blah… oh, there he is! Hey, squishy!"

Harding forced herself to gulp to prove to herself her mouth was still working. As Maxwell wandered over toward them it made the dwarf feel very overdressed. At least he was wearing something different to normal, but it was exceptionally ordinary – leather boots, brown trousers and a white long sleeved shirt with a black tunic. It still looked beautiful. The scout felt overshadowed by him as he approached her. Human's height didn't faze her, but the handsome man in front of her did. Maybe even 'dazzled' her.

"I didn't know you were invited, Sera," he said, collected as ever, towering over the elf too.

"Like balls I was!" Sera retorted, waving her arms around, "I took all this time and effort to make your little person look nice, so you better say she looks pretty! Like, right now!"

"I was going to say…" Trevelyan chuckled, going a tad pink. He peered nervously at Harding's neck, "it brings out your eyes."

"Wow, I'm flattered, your worship," Harding said, wishing she had a mirror so she could check. "Your clothes… look fine also. I mean that in a good way, hehe, my mistake."

She wanted to say 'bring out your hunky muscles' but had to stop herself.

The Inquisitor didn't have time to respond because Sera clapped obnoxiously over her head, "Bravo. Really, you're super terrible. Anyway, enjoy your night, you two."

The elf disappeared into the tavern, but as she did she gave Harding a hard clap on her neck. It took until the dwarf had walked inside until she realized that Sera had slipped a small sheet of paper into the tag of her dress, as it scratched. A lot. Well, at least the trouble maker wouldn't be sitting under the table.

She tried not to knock into customers as they entered the establishment, trying to stay next to each other.

"Did…" Maxwell hesitated, "Did Sera _really_ help you out getting ready?"

"I was surprised too – more than surprised, if I'm honest," Harding smiled, finally able to look into his smoldering grey eyes, "I didn't think she did anything nice for anybody."

"Are you sure she's not up to something?" he asked.

"I don't think I know her well enough, how about we find somewhere to sit?" Harding asked, walking a few paces forward, but the Inquisitor grabbed her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

"You go." He told her, "I'll get us some drinks, maybe find out if the food is worth it tonight."

"Thank you. Great idea, your worship."

Maxwell stepped into the crowd as confidently as if it had been empty, and Harding spun around to try and find a spare table. Somewhere…

The girl stopped dead. She couldn't figure out if she wanted to be within easy reach for Sera or not. So far, though, talking about the elf made the date less nerve racking. Harding sighed, feeling undecided, and found one of the only two seated tables that were free. It was typical there wasn't much choice, especially given tonight. She carefully sat down, making sure her dress wasn't folded awkwardly. At least the music was easier to hear from this spot. It was rowdy, too. Hopefully they'd be able to hold a conversation.

Nonchalantly, Harding reached between the kinks in her hair and hoisted out a sheet of paper. It said: Snoring.

 _This was a bad idea,_ Harding thought to herself again, and she crumpled the paper into a ball and dropped it on the floor. Maxwell reappeared not long after with two glasses of wine.

"I hope you don't mind. I wasn't sure what your drink of choice was." Maxwell said, sounding a little nervous again, "but now I've made one mistake, so you're allowed to mess up."

"That's reassuring," Harding chuckled and pulled the glass toward her as the Inquisitor sat opposite. She liked wine, but she often thought it was too precious to drink, "It must have been expensive."

"It isn't expensive if it's worth it." the Inquisitor said with a small smile.

"Heh… some might look at it that way," the dwarf chuckled nervously and took a sip, "What _do_ you like to drink in these places?"

"Wine." Maxwell said immediately, but upon seeing Harding's intimidated expression said, "Darkspawn taint, Dragon blood… I'm pretty adventurous when it comes to drinking."

The dwarf laughed, but then found she couldn't think of what to say next, "Uh… so…" oh, fine, she would take the prompt, "does anyone in your tents snore?"

The Inquisitor nearly spat out his wine, "That is… well – I'm told the Iron Bull snores. Apparently it kills those who hear its wrath. Thankfully the only person I've had in my vicinity was Dorian. I think he sometimes sings in his sleep."

"Really?" Harding chuckled in disbelief.

"It sounds weird, maybe he just sleep talks or something." Maxwell corrected, and he seemed to feel less nervous as well. There was a silence, which was broken by the two sipping at their drinks.

"What about you?" he asked in a small voice, surveying her curiously over his glass.

Harding gave a nervous laugh again, hoping Sera _wasn't_ listening to her be so jumpy.

"One of the other scouts sounds like he sneezes as he snores." She said, "Kind of like my Dad, although he had a breathing problem."

"That's definitely something," Maxwell said, "Hmm!"

There was a pause.

"When it's my turn to buy a round, should I get wine?" Harding asked, slightly terrified of what the answer would be.

"If you want to split the bill," Maxwell hesitated, "uhh – I suppose…no, how do _you_ usually organize your finances? Money with dinner, with friends."

"I don't." Harding said, but she turned red, "I mean – I _do_ , I definitely do. I just do it alone. I concentrate better by myself."

"Me too," Maxwell admitted, leaning forward on the bench, "so now we have a problem."

"Do we?" the dwarf asked.

"No- not you!" Trevelyan turned pink himself now, "I just mean – I don't want to make a fool of myself."

"How do… I should rephrase – I'm not too smart when it comes to dating," Harding said, sheepishly.

"Neither," Maxwell chuckled, "Wait, is this a date?"

"I… don't know."

"I don't mind if it is," the man added quickly, "I just didn't want to say it first."

"I'll call it a date if you call it a date." Harding said, cautiously.

"I'll call it that if you call it one." Maxwell added, crossing his arms.

"I think date sounds nicer," Harding said, nervous.

"Me too."

"Good."

Trevelyan groaned and buried his hands over his face. It was then where something small and hard flew into the side of Harding's face. A pebble?

"What?" she asked automatically, rubbing her skull.

"What is it, Lacey?" Maxwell demanded, suddenly alarmed.

Wait, maybe it was a piece of paper. Looking around, Harding caught eyes with Sera sitting three tables away.

"N-nothing," Harding said, and she forced herself to look at the Inquisitor, "I think I dropped something when I sat down. Give me a second."

In a rush, Harding climbed under the table and found what she was looking for – another sheet of paper. Unraveling it and reading it under the dark of the table was difficult, but it said: ice cream. Was this more stupid than the last prompt?

Throwing the sheet of paper back in Sera's direction, where it barely got close, Harding got back into her seat.

"Sorry about that." She said.

"It's not a problem." Maxwell said, "Oh, I just remembered something while you were under the table."  
"What is that?" Harding inquired.

"I investigated dinner at the bar," he said, twirling his fingers, "apparently its butter pie. I've never tried that particular pie myself – do you want to risk it?"

"I – yes." Harding said, deciding it was better that the night lasted longer. "That's a nice idea. How about I purchase it? That way we've both given a little something to the date."

"Thank the Maker," Trevelyan seemed to give thanks to the Heavens, "That makes me so much less nervous. Thanks, Lacey."

"All the best, your worship. Don't get too cold out here." Harding blurted out before she could stop herself. She tried to calm her breathing as she weaved through the crowd to the bar. No, Harding! We're not outdoors! We're indoors! _Indoors_!

Once she ordered pie, Sera reached her side.

"Has something mushy happened yet?" she demanded, eyes ablaze with interest.

"Uh… well maybe the pie will be mushy." Harding suggested, "I think I'll have to try speaking more articulately – um, talking slower maybe."

"You're too goo goo for each other," Sera said, disapproving, "It's a fucking big problem. You're lucky I'm far away. I almost chucked looking at you."

"The first paper actually made it easier to…. Talk – about something," Harding admitted, "I'm not used to speaking one on one with the Inquisitor when I can't talk about landscaping."

"Why do you think I wanted to help you?" Sera said angrily, "'Oooh, check out the trees! The sun is at a wonky angle today!'. No way. Come on. Sod off. Hehe….You can even ask about eating _his_ ice cream."

Unable to comprehend the comment for a few seconds, Harding shuddered as she returned to her table. Maxwell had drunk the rest of his wine and was flushed in the face.

"Sera was right, you know," he said slowly, his grey eyes appeared green in the light, "You're really pretty in blue – I mean, the dress. The dress is blue."

"Are you feeling okay, Inquisitor?" Harding muttered, taking a small sip of her own glass, "Maybe I should have gotten some water."

"Don't worry," Maxwell waved it away, "I'm so sorry. Because I like to save up for wine, I don't actually end up drinking very much. One beer a week tops. When I do drink, it goes to my head."

Harding felt tempted to touch Maxwell's gorgeous waves and lost all thought in the process.

No talking about landscaping!

"Do you think ice cream would taste good with wine?" Harding wondered, now genuinely curious for the answer to her own question.

"Heheh, ice cream," Maxwell smiled, "I rarely get to eat it. My family always made puddings and cakes when they invite all these Tevinter families over. Those get eaten with dessert wine. I'm not sure how ice cream fits into that."

"Tevinter sounds fascinating," the dwarf said, "I've never been, but I would really like to one day. I sometimes wish something bad would happen there so the Inquisition would go. The architecture is stunning – from what I can see on maps and sketches." She sighed, lost in thought, "What do you think of Tevinter?"

"I went once when I was little." Maxwell admitted, "It isn't too much different from Orlais, but worse, if you can believe it. The buildings look like they'd tumble over and squash you on purpose."

"I imagine that's kind of... not good... painful." Harding said, "Maybe I shouldn't be so enthusiastic for adventure."

"Do you like ice cream, Lacey?" the Inquisitor asked, resting his chin on his palm. Harding was suddenly reminded of Sera's joke and went pink.

"I, uh, I had it at The Winter Palace for the first time." Harding said, feeling pathetic, "I liked it – that's mostly it. My family used to make snow cones in Fereldan when it snowed, but it's not the same. I wish it was."

"Did you like Orlais then?" Maxell wondered.

"Absolutely." Harding said, "It is just so different from anything I've seen before. The people are kind of scary – but it's the decorations were really pretty."

The Inquisitor's mouth spread into a guilty smile. The light reflected off his stern jaw line.

"I'm so sorry I didn't dress better, Lacey," he said, "Please forgive me. I feel terrible about it."

"Oh, don't say that. _I'm_ the one who is overdressed." Harding disagreed.

" _A woman is never over or under dressed_ , my mother used to say," Maxwell recalled, " _it is always the other person who has dressed wrong._ "

"Your mother sounds…. very Orleasian." Harding admitted. "I suppose it's because of the noble family and everything… sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you make a good point," Maxwell said, "I'm not offended anyway."

They shared a smile. At that moment their food was brought to the table by Cabot himself. "Enjoy. You're a stunner tonight, Lace."

"T-Thank you," Harding wasn't expecting a compliment. The eating of food gave the couple a nice fall back if they couldn't think of anything to say. To Maxwell's surprise, butter pie actually meant onion and potato pie, but Harding already knew that.

To her dread or interest, Sera strolled over with a drink in her hand, forgetting all morals.

"Does it taste like ass?" she mumbled, smirking, "I bet it does."

Luckily, it was noisy enough that no one else heard the comment except them.

"You're wrong, Sera." Maxwell said bluntly, swallowing hard.

"Yeah. It's good. I mean - it tastes comforting and homely. That's how I like my food." Harding agreed.

"Hey, I'm not judging, I mean," Sera said under her breath, "some people's butt cracks taste good, you know."

When the Inquisitor and Harding blushed, the elf burst into malicious cackles.

"Don't make me piss myself laughing!" she said, "Ooh, you look so fucking good."

"Go away, Sera." Maxwell said, firmly.

Harding was still trying to recover from the dirty comment and needed to stop eating for a few seconds.

"Yeah, well, I have a message to you from me." Sera said, placing a sheet of paper in Harding's hand, "I'm going to bed. Ta ta!"

Half relieved, and the other half fearful that she was alone with no help, Sera danced away in time to the music, splashing some drink on the floor. "Balls!" she swore, but soon her voice was inaudible.

"What did she give you?" Maxwell asked, trying to peer over at the page, "if it's a crossword full of dirty words I'll designate her to Vivienne's tent next time we're out trekking."

"No… nothing like that." Harding said. She quickly scanned the page. It said: After dinner? "She's wondering what we plan to do after this."

"After?" Maxwell blushed, "Andraste help me, I'm having a hard enough time thinking about the present! You're just too cute and – fuck. Forget I said anything."

Harding blushed, "I get worried too," she hesitated, "I, uh, I'm not sure if you care about what I have to say…"

"Of course I do, Lacey," Maxwell said, "just because we only speak during minor increments of the day doesn't mean I don't care. I just… finding the balance between friendship and work is challenging. Then again, I think so long as I don't get too side tracked I can blend them as much as I want."

"What about your family?" the scout asked.

"Err, what do you mean?" Maxwell questioned.

"Uh, nothing." The girl looked down at her hands, "Don't worry."

"I don't think they mind who I take out on dates," he said, "even if they did it wouldn't stop me."

"That's really kind of you – sweet, really – your worship." The dwarf said.

"Oh, right. I keep not thinking properly." Maxwell hit his head as though that would fix it, "Look, you really don't have to keep calling me 'your worship' and 'Inquisitor'. As leader of the Inquisition I would like you - if it is okay - to call me something else."

"Uh," Harding gulped, "I wouldn't know what to choose, uh, what do your friends call you?"

"Maxwell is fine, or Master Trevelyan if we're around people in fancy masks." Maxwell said.

"I can do that, Maxwell." Harding's voice shook as she changed the name, "wow that felt strange. I'm not used to it."

The man looked nervous, "Is Lacey okay? I'm sorry. Dorian referred to you as that once by accident and…. well, I thought it was cute."

"I… like it too." Harding admitted, getting lost in Trevelyan's eyes. He was so amazingly tall compared to her, even in chairs, but it wasn't intimidating anymore. "This sounds –haha- probably strange, but I think your haircut is really… delightful, I guess that's the right way to put it."

They both turned red at that.

"Oh, this?" he toyed at his own chestnut curls, "Thanks – really – but I don't do anything with it. It just does crazy things all on its own – kind of like the Breach."

The dwarf couldn't help herself and laughed. "Your hair would need to be green and have demons pouring out of it."

"You mean it's not already green?" Maxwell joked, "Wow. Amazing! Just like that. You must have done something special for it to be normal. Did you stroke it while I was sleeping?"

"I'm far too timid for that." Harding said, "But well, you only have to say the word, your worsh- I mean, Maxwell."

"Not just yet," The Inquisitor said with a playful smile, "but you know, I've been very curious about your hands myself. They're so adorable. Do you mind if I… no, never mind. I'm just embarrassing myself."

"You want to hold them?" Harding asked, unable to stop the leap in her chest.

"If that's okay," Maxwell wiped his own hands on his trousers, "Lacey."

The scout stared at the table, where the Inquisitor had raised his palms to the ceiling. Her heart lurched with adrenaline like Haven was under attack by the Dragon all over again. Still, she carefully wiped her own nerve wrecked hands on her dress and gently placed her fingers over his wrists. In a glorious moment, Maxwell wrapped his fingers around her hands. The sweat built up quickly, but it made them too happy to care. It was like a rush of energy brought on by a herbal mixture, taking away all pain.

"I feel like I'm about to faint from the jitters." Harding said nervously, ending on a laugh, "do you think all hand holding feels like this?"

"Who knows?" Maxwell smiled, gently readjusting how his hands locked with hers, "Maybe we should practice. Are you ready for the Emprise again tomorrow?"

"Like always!" Harding carefully rose from her chair without breaking their grip, as though carrying a precious ornament across the room. "We should do this again sometime."

"That would be great." Maxwell agreed, and they went closer side by side, Harding needed to raise her arm up slightly for them to keep holding hands, "Thank you, Lacey."

Harding didn't tell him that she wasn't the only one who deserved thanks.


End file.
